Page 15 of The Reaper
I’d always been my dad’s little angel.
Clumsy angel.
Forgetful angel.
The quiet little angel who always did as she was told.
I didn’t mind being that for my dad, but deep down, I was no angel. I’d never let him know, but I preferred the shadows, and not because I could hide, although that was a bonus. The shadows were whereheplayed, and where he was, I wanted to be.
I liked the dark.
I liked danger.
And he was danger.
He was the silent breeze that blew through the night, sending shivers down my spine and igniting my soul.
Darkness and fire.
Death that made me feel alive.
From the moment I’d laid eyes on Devon Brady all those years ago, I was drawn to him. The proverbial moth to the flame, and I couldn’t get him out of my head, even now, while I was standing in the kitchen with my dad, nursing a bruised fist, he was there, right at the forefront of my mind.
Was he a virus infecting my soul? Or the blooms of life being injected into my veins? I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. But I knew one thing, he made me want to live the life I’d always dreamed of. He made me want to break free. He made me want things I’d never even whisper to myself in the darkness of my room.
He made me want, and I wanted him.
“Shall we take our tea into the living room and watch a few episodes ofFriendsbefore I put the dinner on?” my dad asked, pulling me out of my reverie.
“Yeah, sure.” I painted on the smile I used just for my dad and followed him as he carried our mugs through to the lounge.
I lived a life of contradiction and little white lies. I had to. But I couldn’t go on like this. Something had to change, or else I was going to lose my mind.
ChapterSeven
LEAH MAY
Jodie pulled herself out of her pit when she smelled Dad’s Sunday roast wafting through the house, and she came down to eat with us. She looked a shade less green and sickly than she had done earlier, so Dad’s suspicions of her night being anything other than a booze-filled overindulgence were put to rest. We ate, Jodie filled Dad in on some of her less salacious escapades that made him laugh and roll his eyes, and I tried to stop my mind from wandering into the dark avenues that it seemed to want to go down. I couldn’t settle though, no matter how hard I tried to tune into their conversation and act normal.
After dessert, Jodie announced that she was going to walk home. She didn’t live too far away, and she told us the fresh air would do her good; help to blow out the cobwebs from the night before. I thought she’d need more than the wintery breeze outside to do that, but what did I know?
I didn’t want to stay cooped up in the house with nothing but the riotous voices in my head to keep me company, so I offered to walk with her. That way, Dad could work on his sermons and other church stuff without any distractions, and I could avoid playing the role of his devoted flock, listening to every word. I don’t know why he asked for my critique anyway; he never changed anything.
Jodie didn’t have a decent coat with her, so I lent her one of mine.
“Thanks for dinner, Uncle Nathan,” Jodie called out to my dad in his study. “Same time next week?” She laughed.
I heard Dad chuckle and call back, “Sure. But try not to have a hangover next time.”
He pretended like he was okay with it, or that it was only mildly irritating, but I knew when I got home, he’d be cursing her out for bringing shame to her family. Those immortal words, ‘She could do with taking a leaf out of your book,’ would probably feature too. Dad thought I was the epitome of graciousness and excellence. Good job he couldn’t see into my brain; I don’t think he’d like what he found there.
We took a slow walk through the country lanes that led from my house to Jodie’s. The conversation stayed shallow and inconsequential. But when we eventually arrived at her front door, she hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Thanks again for this morning. And thanks for staying quiet too. I owe you.”
I pulled away, and I could see something like shame shine in her eyes.
“You don’t owe me anything. And remember, you did nothing wrong last night.” She gave a sad nod and then turned to unlock the door.
“Doubt I’ll be going to The Sanctuary again,” she said in a grave voice. I didn’t respond, just watched the door close quietly behind her.
